


What The Kingdom Stole

by MixterGlacia



Series: Strike Consume Poison [3]
Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: 035 is toxic as shit and you can't change my mind, 049 is WAY too trusting, Casual Discussion Of Eating People, Headcanon, Loss, Multi, Rule 3 which should be Rule 1: DON'T FUCK WITH THE FAE, Toxic Relationship, how did we get here, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixterGlacia/pseuds/MixterGlacia
Summary: A series of events from 049's perspective, leading up to modern day.
Relationships: SCP-035/Original Male Characters(s), SCP-035/SCP-049 (SCP Foundation), SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Strike Consume Poison [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831768
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	What The Kingdom Stole

**Author's Note:**

> "Just know  
> That mine is a hand to hold  
> Take back what the kingdom stole  
> A curse on the streets of gold."  
> -Porter Robinson

It takes a few hours to get from the nearest town to their new home. Inconvenient, but necessary. There were some places that would accept those along the lines of Dyo and the Doctor, but they were rare. The changeling could hide anywhere. This was part of why the trio would occasionally split up. 

While Oisin had once vanished for two decades, this was the longest the Doctor had gone without seeing either of his partners. There was also the difficulty of not speaking Finnish. He missed having the greatest translator, bar none.

The effort is worth it when the mill breaks over the horizon. The Doctor sighs, thanking the Lord. He raises a hand to knock, ignoring how long his talons had gotten.

It's Dýo who answers. The mask lets out a delighted gasp, sweeping the Doctor into a hug. "Sparviero you bastard!"

His shoulders relax and he returns the embrace. "I missed you too, Filou."

They cackle, punching the Doctors arm. "C'mon, you can think of a better nickname than that!"

"It fits." He clasps his hands together. "Where's Oisin?"

Dýo shrugs, waving him inside. "He said he had business over the border."

"How long has he been gone?" He inquires.

"A week and a half?" The actor guesses, locking the door. "Oughta be home by next month at the latest."

Right. The Doctor glances around the house, setting his bag down. "I see."

"You want something to eat, babe?"

"Not yet, let me get settled." He notices the thick, oily substance leaking from Dýo's eyes and mouth. "That's... that's new."

"Huh?" The mask flickers to something near confusion.

"That...ooze?"

"Oh, right. You'd left before that started." Dýo wipes at their eye sockets. "Our best guess is that it's some kinda defense thing. Brambles thinks it's because we've been at a higher risk of getting caught lately. Stains like a bitch."

The Doctor is intrigued. "May I take samples?"

"Best t' use glass, if you've got it." They plonk down at the kitchen table. "Shit eats through metal and the like."

"Of course I'm using glass." He huffs. "What sort of doctor do you take me for?"

"Don't take it personally, doll. I just wanted to be sure. Are y' gonna take some or not?"

The Doctor straightens out his robes. "Indeed." He plucks an empty vial from his bag, uncorking it. "Come here."

"You have two perfectly functional legs. I'm tired."

Smug bastard.

Still, it's not worth a fight. So he walks over, holding the container underneath the point where the fluid drips off of the mask.

"Christ alive, Doc'. What the hell happened to your hands?" Dýo's mouth twists into a scowl.

He freezes, dropping the glass. It shatters on the floor, earning him an angry shout.

"Fucks sakes man!" The mask shoves by to retrieve a broom. "Are you _already_ tryin' t' get a rise outta me?! I _just_ cleaned this place an hour ago! I've got half a mind t' make _you_ deal with this!!"

The Doctor just dissociates quietly. He can't stop a tremor that travels up his arm.

"Are you _listening_ , dumbass?!"

He nods, unable to form words for a few minutes. He finally spits out a weak, "Sorry."

"Whatever. Go to the well and get me some water." Dýo orders, then starts ranting to themselves in Italian.

The Doctor does just that, focusing on steadying his nerves. If Dýo noticed, so would Oisin. Maybe he had time to run off before the changeling got back. He's so distracted, the man spills the bucket down his front. He stops what he's doing, taking a deep breath. The moon watches on as he refills it. "Get a hold of yourself." He whispers harshly.

He makes his way back in, staring holes into the floorboards. The mask tosses a rag at him, so he busies himself with scrubbing the dark stain from the wood. It doesn't come all the way out, but at least it's not producing an angry hiss anymore. He flinches when a sliver of glass finds its way into his thumb.

"You're a fucking mess." Dýo points out as the Doctor gets a pair of tweezers from his kit.

He makes no argument, just studying how his flesh separates as he digs the shard out. Blood wells up quickly, and he applies pressure on instinct. His once deft fingers looked arthritic, knuckles like tree knots.

"Are you gonna talk to me or what?"

The Doctor glances up. "I'm sorry?"

Dýo snorts angrily. "God fucking damnit, can you say _anything_ other than 'sorry'?!"

His throat clenches. He _hated_ when they talked to him like this. Normally, Oisin would step in. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option at the moment. The flustered man stutters. "S-sor-"

"If the next damned word is what I think it is-"

"Stop yelling at me!" The Doctor snaps. "Or I'll _gladly_ expedite your need for a new host!"

Dýo hauls him up by the collar. "Are you actually threatening _me_?! That's fucking rich!" The mask raises a fist, but they're interrupted by the door slamming open.

"What the _fuck_ is going on with in here?!" It's a familiar voice. One that brings a wave of relief. "Dýo, let him go."

"I-"

" **_Now._ **" The command is echoed by crackling branches.

There's a second where the Doctor thinks they're going to ignore it. Then,

"Tch…fine." They drop him, glowering.

"Doc'." Oisin gestures to the far wall. "Upstairs, right now."

He doesn't hesitate, climbing the steps two at a time. Before he can shut the door, the changeling gives him a warning.

"Cover your ears and don't come out until I _personally_ get you." His voice pops like firewood. It only does that when he's _furious_. "If you disobey, you'll have more than your petty squabble to worry about. Go on."

The Doctor follows the instructions to the letter. He picks one of the beds, burying his head under the pillows. While he can't make anything out, it's obvious that the argument is getting intense. They carry on for who knows how long. Then, out of nowhere, it stops.

The silence is louder than anything else.

The door creaks open, and there's Oisin. He settles back into the face he used when the two first met. He sits at the foot of the bed.

"So. You wanna tell me what happened?"

The Doctor sits up, fidgeting nervously. "I'm sure Dýo told-"

"I already talked to them. I want to hear _your_ side."

"My apologies." He ducks his head.

"It's fine. Take your time." Oisin gives him a sympathetic look.

"... I wanted to get a sample of this oil Dýo seems to produce now. I dropped the vial and it broke. They got angry, and made me help clean it. Apparently I didn't react in a way they felt appropriate, so they began to berate me. I snapped and started shouting back. That's when you showed up." He looks out the window.

"How long have you been here?"

"...maybe a few hours?" The man admits sheepishly.

The changeling pinches the bridge of his nose. "Gods above and below." He swears.

The Doctor feels terribly guilty. He behaved like a child.

"Dýo won't be home until tomorrow. When they get back, I want you to apologise to them." Oisin explains. 

"Okay."

"Now I expect you to be honest with me." He continues.

Oh no.

"They told me you flipped out after they made a comment about your hands. Is that true?"

The Doctor simply nods.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Oisins eyes flash gold.

...He did. He truly did. If only his tongue didn't stick to the roof of his mouth when he tried. "Over a cup of tea." He gets out of bed, wandering back into the main room.

Oisin shadows him calmly, using a branch to retrieve a tin from above the stove. "Considering how the rest of the evening has gone, I imagine you wouldn't mind some chamomile."

"That sounds wonderful."

"You can go into the living room, I'll take care of this." He smiles warmly. "Or you can stick around. The pantry has plenty of snacks if you want something to nibble on."

The Doctor decides to investigate, surprised by the sheer amount of food. "I thought you were still…"

"Eating humans?"

"Yes." He pops open a canister of shortbread.

"All traps require bait. I can't invite acquaintances to dinner without supplies. Also, my 'normal' guests would get suspicious if I had no 'essentials'." A vine ducks past, plucking something off a shelf.

"Are any of the neighbors like us?"

"No, Doctor." He fills the kettle, face grim. "We're not amongst friends here."

He doesn't push any further. The reality of their situation always loomed large. One day, the End would swallow them whole. Cold, unfeeling, and more sudden than lightning.

Unlike his companions, the practitioner struggled with this. It seemed as if the others had long since come to terms with it. Both were well over a thousand years old. Hardship was the iron that tempered their spirits...so why couldn't _he_ rest easy?

The Cure is his only goal. Once he obtains that...he doesn't know.

"-octor!"

He drops the can.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?" Oisin gently shakes his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He reacts instinctively. "I didn't catch that."

Oisin guides him back into the living room. A few spare vines quickly take care of the mess. "I figured. You know you can always tell me if something is bothering you."

"I know."

"Do you?"

The Doctor wrings his hands together, sitting on the couch. "Of cou-"

"Lark, I can tell you don't fully believe what you're saying." Oisin settles on the arm of the sofa in a shower of leaves. "Let's start with your hands."

Every explanation refuses to come out. "..."

"I can't help you if I don't know why you're upset." The changeling puts an arm around his shoulders.

"... It's my condition. I need advice." He admits.

Oisins eyes turn steely. "I'm not the one you bargained with. How am I meant to know?"

The Doctor gives him a pitiful look, one full of repressed pain.

His partner exhales harshly, throwing his arms up in surrender. " _Fine_. You know I can't stand to see you upset."

The man raises a clawed hand, unable to stop it from trembling. "Every year it gets worse... I lose more of myself to this...curse."

Oisin picks at his teeth, humming a bit. "That's a bad thing? Being human isn't all it's cracked up to be. We're still not sure you even were one to start with! Plus I-" He's startled when the Doctor slumps forward, hiding his face in his hands. "-hey!"

The house creaking is the only noise for several minutes.

"...Gods sakes, alright. Lemme see your hands." The beast starts unfurling from his mortal disguise.

The Doctor doesn't react.

A bundle of roots smack the floor. " _Hand._ **_Now._ **"

Rather than getting into another scrap, he does as told. Elegant vines take hold of his wrist, gently manipulating his fingers. The creature is nothing if not thorough. 

"I can't undo this."

"What?!" The Doctor exclaims. "Why _not_?"

"Little Lark, I love you. I love you more than I can put into words." Oisins many eyes bore holes into his partner. "However, I am not starting a _war_ with another court over you. Even just examining you could upset whoever did this. If I try to break it, I would face _severe_ repercussions. I'm not taking that chance."

"Then what am I to do?!" The Doctor sounds desperate. "Am I to allow this to consume me?"

The only warning he gets is a loud crackle of splintering wood. The changeling is tall enough that his leaves brush the ceiling. His voice is overwhelmingly loud. " _Yes._ You call _this_ a curse? This is a _lesson_!"

Lord alive, Oisin could be terrifying. "What do I _learn_ from this?!"

"Acceptance!" He barks, roots twisting tightly. "There is much in this world that you seek to control. Nature is not a puzzle box for the likes of you to play with until it breaks! Who are you to command the sun to rise? Who are you to call yourself the only true healer in the world? You are but a speck in the grand scheme of things! You gambled, you lost. This is your path now. What's done is done. Stop trying to change the past and look to the future. That is the only choice you have."

The Doctor is stunned.

"I need you to tell me that you understand what I'm saying."

"I-... I do. It just hurts to hear."

"Truth always does." Oisin retracts many of his branches, returning to his typical height. "I'm not finished, though."

The Doctor tenses. "Oh?"

"I need you to listen very closely." He continues, taking on his female shape. "I get that you're disturbed by these changes. You fixate on your hands because of how beastly they've become. Right?"

...he nods.

"Your body will continue to change. This is a fact. How often does Dýo change hosts? How many times have you seen me lose my leaves?" He smiles, taking the practitioner's hand. He weaves their fingers together. "What matters is who you are inside. You're still a tight-laced, God fearing man. The only difference is just how _obsessed_ you are with this Pestilence."

"It's important to me." He interjects. 

"And I respect that. I'm not demanding for you to stop." Oisin leans against his side. "What I'm saying is that you're still the man I love. Okay?"

The Doctors shoulders go slack. He sighs deeply, but squeezes the fae's hand. "... thank you, Saule."

"Anytime."

The two lapse into a comfortable silence. Eventually the Doctor drifts into a dreamless sleep

* * *

He wakes up, still on the couch, but Oisin isn't at his side. There's a clatter in the kitchen, followed by muffled Gaelic swearing. He looks into the kitchen to find his partner at the stove. It looks like he's making some sort of porridge.

"Saule?"

Oisin looks over with a sheepish smile. "Did I wake you up?"

"Sort of. I was only half asleep."

"I see. Well, are you hungry?" He dusts off his hands. "I've got a little bit of everything."

The Doctor wanders over, glancing into the pantry. "I'd be happy with a coffee and some crackers for now.

His partner chuckles, but makes no fuss about it. "You know where the kettle is."

The two maneuver around each other with practiced ease. It helps that one of them is a highly malleable tree beast. Soon enough the Doctor has his drink and he settles at the table. He says grace silently before tucking into his meager breakfast.

"You know you can ask for more to eat, right?"

He almost chokes on his coffee. Oisin comes over, thumping him on the back. He gasps, chest heaving. Eventually he sputters out, "O-of course I do!"

  
  


The fae gives him a guilty look. "I see. Sorry for scaring the shit outta you."

The Doctor waves him off. "I suppose I should have expected it."

The next few hours pass in relative peace. The two catch each other up on the state of their little worlds. Stories that seem so outlandish, but neither of them were prone to lying.

The sun had just barely started to set when the front door unlocks.

The practitioner is on edge. He warily watches as Dýo makes their way inside, with a basket under their arm.

"Ey, Doc'?"

"Yes, Dýo?" He clasps his hands to prevent them from shaking.

"I was a stubborn prick." Their face hovers at one of those in between emotions. "I shouldn't have lashed out at ya like that. I was overreacting."

"...as did I." The Doctor admits. "I apologise for my actions."

"Yeah, same." The mask nods. "I brought y' some new gloves if y' want them."

They had always been a gift giver. "Really?"

"Why would I lie about something like that? I'm a monster, but I ain't that much of a bastard." Dýo opens the basket, pulling out a handful. "Wasn't sure what style you were into right now, so I got a bunch."

The Doctor smiles. He walks over to his partner and looks over the selection. "I'm not terribly picky. Thank you. This is very thoughtful."

The actor chuckles, tossing an arm around his shoulders. "Yer' welcome babe."

They don't linger long, taking the rest of the basket's contents to the kitchen. "Got you some honey cake, Brambles."

"Bribery." The changeling accuses, though he has nothing but amusement in his voice.

"What of it?" Dýo's shit eating grin is once more in place. "You telling me y' don't _want_ it?"

"Of course I do, idiot." Oisin sniffs dismissively. "Let me get a knife. Set it on the counter."

The Doctor watches as the two busy themselves with slicing the treat, conversing whilst Oisin digs into it. The previous tension lets go of him, and he quietly tries on his gift. They're all beautiful. This set in particular is a soft cream colour with blue stitching that matches his eyes. They fit perfectly.

While he may fight with them, the Doctor deeply loves both of his partners. He fishes out one of the journals he uses for his personal life, rather than for work.

* * *

At some point in the 1890s the group had split again. This was only meant to be temporary. Dýo had business to deal with in Venice, and wanted to do it alone.

The Doctor had held them tightly before they went on their way. He made the mask promise to return safely. They had cackled, sarcastically remarking that nothing bad happened in the waterlogged city. After they vanished from sight, a pit formed in the man's stomach.

Oisin came home that night with a new masculine face. His hair is long and hangs in his eyes. He seems surprised. "Where's Dýo?"

The practitioner sets his tools aside. "They had things they needed to take care of in Venice. Should be home next month."

The changeling goes quiet for a long while. Eventually the Doctor has to ask him what's bothering him.

"I'm not sure, Lark." He sounds miles away. "I can't shake this feeling that we won't see them for much longer than that."

His partner shakes his head, reaching out to pull Oisin into an embrace. "Nonsense. They can take care of themselves."

"I know, it's just…"

"I think we shouldn't dwell on what _might_ be, Oisin." The Doctor takes his hand, walking out into the cool night air. "Our Filou wouldn't want that. Take a stroll with me."

The fae is despondent, but allows himself to be led along the path. He does stop eventually, standing at the edge of a pond. He's staring at the treeline on the opposite shore intently. "Doctor, I don't think I ever told you how I met Dýo.

The man blinks, tilting his head. "Not completely. Why?"

"It was almost three thousand years ago. They were in Ireland, doing gods know what." He takes a seat in the grass, face blank. "There was this human village that cropped up near my Grove's land. They blamed the forest we lived in for a rash of disappearances. Basically 'the fae are stealing kids' mentality. Instead of just leaving us alone, they set the damn place on fire. I did what I could, but it was too far gone. I had to escape to save my life. As I ran, I nearly barreled over this weirdo in a mask. They agreed to give me shelter in exchange for my company. It didn't take long for them to admit that they knew I wasn't human."

"Dýo isn't easily tricked." The Doctor observes.

"Exactly." Oisin picks up a stone, skipping it across the water. "They told me, 'Yer secrets safe with me.' and I decided to put a _bit_ of trust in them. I told them I'd have to run down south to get the help of a Rowan Grove. Couldn't teach that village a _lesson_ all by myself. Dýo was patient with me while I did what I had to do."

"...which was?"

"What do you think, Lark?" The shadows on his face take on harsh angles. "Safe to say they're _still_ dealing with their generational curse."

The Doctor swallows around a lump in his throat. "Ah."

That makes Oisin laugh slightly. "When I returned, Dýo was right where I left them. They welcomed me back with an enthusiasm I was unaccustomed to seeing. 'I missed ya!' they took my hands, patted my shoulder. 'How'd it go?' they asked... I didn't know how to react to such blatant familiarity. I was wary, but explained that it was successful. They congratulated me, then asked a simple question. 'What would you say if I wanted t' keep traveling with you?' Full disclosure, I laughed at that. I just assumed they were joking. They insisted that they were serious…I'll admit I was interested, so we struck a deal. We would stick together so long as it suited us. I figured it would be a short-term thing, but…here we are."

"Why'd you stay?"

The fae leans back on his elbows. "That certainly is the question, isn't it?" He yawns. "They fascinate me. They weren't some bold little human trying to make friends with the fair folk. They looked at me as an equal, respected me for what I am. Much like you do."

He goes quiet again. His fingers twist into roots, burrowing into the ground. "Doctor, I am going to be very upset if my hunch is correct."

"They're going to come back, Saule." The Doctor insists. "Come on, let's go make some tea."

While he puts on a strong front for Oisin, the man can't help but mull it over. Regrettably, he felt that the fae was right…

It was in fate's hands now.

* * *

Oisin wasn't quite the same after Dýo had disappeared. He became withdrawn, his leaves less vibrant. He was still the loving partner he'd always been, but he was prone to long periods of silence. It took him decades to stop staring out of the windows for hours. 

"Saule?"

"Hm?" Oisin glances up at the Doctor.

"I need to go take care of the Winslow family from the next town over. Half of them caught something nasty." He adjusts his bag.

"Let me get-"

"Oisin, they asked for you to not come." He interrupts. "The grandmother is convinced that you're possessed."

The sound of splintering branches resonates. "I'll wear another face, it's no big deal."

The Doctor hates this. "They only want me."

"Absolutely _not_."

"Oisin." He pushes back. "This isn't up for negotiation. I have to do my job. I am very capable of protecting myself."

There's that fireplace sound. "You said the same thing about Dýo."

He always knows where to strike. "We still don't know what happened to them. I have a duty to this family."

"Fuck them, I can't lose you too!" He snarls, branches twisting from his false flesh.

The practitioner shrinks back, but stands his ground. "Why can't you trust me? It's just one day! _Maybe_ two!"

Vines cage him in, drawing him close. "You are _all I have left_ , Lark." Oisin pleads. "My dearest Doctor, I can't handle another heartbreak."

He reaches up, cradling the fae's true face. "Have faith in me. I assure you I will be back. Please, Saule."

For a moment, the air goes still. Reluctantly, he releases his partner. "Swear to me, that no matter how long it takes, you will find your way back to me."

The Doctor clasps his hands. "No matter what, I will come home."

Oisin sighs. "My gut is telling me to use that one traditional farewell, but I'm afraid it's far too campy for you."

"I think I know which one you mean. I'm not one for overly long goodbyes."

"Well...goodbye, my love." The fae rests his forehead against the Doctors. "Be _safe._ "

"I will." He holds Oisin close before backing off. "I'll see you in a day or so."

"Even if I change locations?" He chuckles weakly.

"Then I'll ask around. Try to get some rest." The Doctor picks up his bag.

"No promises."

The man takes one last look before leaving.

* * *

There was a bit of a snag. The healing process had gone well, and the Doctor was packing up to return home. That's when a group of armed men had burst in, weapons drawn.

Oh dear.

The family is quick to defend their home, and the Doctor takes notes on their increased mobility. He was boxed in, so trying to fight his way out would certainly result in him getting shot. Sadly the Winslow's are dispatched by the strangers.

What a waste of life.

They turned their attention to the Doctor. He huffs, holding up his hands. "I'm unarmed."

The apparent leader takes a step forward. His French is shakey, but understandable. "We need you to come with us. I highly suggest you cooperate."

"Uh, I do apologise, sir." He gestures in the vague direction of his home. "My husband is expecting me back."

"He's already in custody." The stranger insists. "You two will be fine if you follow orders."

The Doctor is a bit confused. "But we'll be reunited, correct?"

"Mhmm." The mans finger twitches near the trigger. "As long as you are fully cooperative."

"Of course, sir. I understand." The Doctor picks up his bag. "Lead the way."

They usher him to a fancy looking motor car, locking him in the back. It doesn't take long at all for him to realize he's been tricked. God dammit all! He slumps forward, holding his face in his hands. He's always been far too trusting. He only hopes Oisin would forgive him…

* * *

Dr.Sherman scowls at the SCP through the plexiglass. "I expect your best behavior. No misleading the translator."

"Of course." The Doctor nods. "If it helps the Foundations research into the Cure, I'll help however I can."

The scientist rolls his eyes. "Fine. I'm going to get them."

049 shakes his head, turning back to the gorilla carcass. He peels the flesh from it's ribs, noting the healthy colour of the meat. It doesn't take long for the door to open again. He sits back to get a look, and drops his scalpel.

  
" _Saule_?"

**Author's Note:**

> fun facts:  
> Ash's SCP number literally stands for "FACE"  
> 049 is still humanoid, but has a large amount of bird-like features  
> 035 is highly punchable. 10/10 would deck


End file.
